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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27765682">The Boy King</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dylkntz/pseuds/Dylkntz'>Dylkntz</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Basically Spot's POV of the strike and previous events, F/M, Fear of Death, Give my boy a hug please, He's just a child, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Injuries, Non-Graphic Violence, POV Spot Conlon, Spot Conlon is Bad at Feelings, Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins-centric, a bit - Freeform, cursing, it's the main ship focused on, past break up (not mentioned just hinted)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 22:35:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,449</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27765682</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dylkntz/pseuds/Dylkntz</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Spot nodded, and took a deep breath “I just don't know Racer it’s like I feel like I just can’t live . Between Brooklyn, and the goddamn strike, and now Cowboy gettin’ arrested .” His eyes started to water as he continued “I’m either gaining responsibilities I didn’t want or losin’ people I do and I-” His voice cracked, and the tears started to fall “I have the weight of the world on my shoulders and I feel like it’s crushing me and I-....and I can’t fucking breathe Racer .” </p><p>Race looked at him with wide eyes, cigar fiddling through his fingers. “ Spotty ,” He whispered, before wrapping the taller boy in a hug, and Spot lost his composure. He let out a sob wrapping his arms around Racetrack, and leaning into the warm embrace. Race rubbed his back as Spot sobbed, “I gotcha Spotty, I ain’t goin’ nowhere. I promise .” </p><p>Spot Conlon's POV of the newsboys strike</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sarah Jacobs/Jack Kelly, Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Boy King</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Spot, Scars wants to talk to you.” Hotshot told Spot as soon as he walked into the lodging house </p><p> </p><p>“<em> Why </em>?” </p><p> </p><p>“Don’t know.” Hotshot clapped him on the shoulder “<em> Goodluck </em>.” </p><p> </p><p>Spot sighed, pushing the fear in his gut down. He walked up the flights of steps to Scars room. Knocking on the door and getting a gravely “Come in.” he took a deep breath and walked into Scar’s room. </p><p> </p><p>Spot’s heart stopped at what he saw. </p><p> </p><p>Scars was leaning on their desk, face bloody and shirt stained. </p><p> </p><p>“Jesus Christ Scars,” Spot rushed over to them “What the hell happened.” </p><p> </p><p>Scars pushed him away, shaking their head. “Spot I need to talk to you.” They motioned for Spot to sit down. </p><p> </p><p>“But you’re-” </p><p> </p><p>“Spot <em> please </em> just listen to me.” Scars sighed, running their hand down their face “I need you to listen to me.” Spot went silent “Thank you. I’m stepping down-” Spot started to protest but Scar’s held up their hand to silence him. “I’m not <em> done </em> . I’m stepping down and there is nothing you can do to stop me Spot. I’m less than 6 months from aging out.” Scars sighed. Motioning to their injuries they continued, “And obviously some people have some <em> objections </em> to my leadership.”  </p><p> </p><p>“Well then we find them and <em> soak </em> ‘em” Spot pointed out </p><p> </p><p>Scars just laughed, “<em> No </em> . No we <em> don’t </em> . Spot I’d like to be the first Brooklyn leader to age out. I’m <em> so </em> close, and I don’t wanna die.” </p><p> </p><p>“So you’re just going to <em> abandon </em> us?” </p><p> </p><p>“<em> Yes </em>.” </p><p> </p><p>Spot froze at Scars words, his heart plummeting in his chest, “What? You- <em> what </em>? Who’s going to lead us?” </p><p> </p><p>Scars gave him a soft look, “You are.” </p><p> </p><p>“<em> What- </em>” </p><p> </p><p>“Spot you’ve been second since you were 13. You can do this.” Scars smiled at him, but their smile fell, “but you’re going to have to make some sacrifices.” </p><p> </p><p>“<em> No </em> . No, because I am not becoming a leader! I’m <em> 15 </em> , I <em> can’t </em> become a leader!” Spot yelled, almost 100% sure the newsies downstairs could hear him</p><p> </p><p>Scar’s soft expression turned into a stony one, “You don’t have a <em> choice </em> Spot! It’s either this or leave. You <em> knew </em> this when you became second!” </p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t have a choice then <em> either </em>.” </p><p> </p><p>“And you don’t <em> now </em> .” Scars glared,”Now like I said there are going to be some <em> sacrifices- </em>” </p><p>-----</p><p> Spot rolled over in his bed, cheeks stained, and eyes burning from crying. He can’t do this. He can’t just be expected to lead an entire borough before 16. He couldn’t just give up his friendships and <em> relationships </em> because of <em> stupid </em> turf. It was stupid, and it wasn’t <em> fair </em>. </p><p> </p><p>Spot turned over again, getting out of bed and walking to his bathroom. Looking in the mirror he cringed. His hair was a mess. His eyes red, and his cheeks not any better. He looked away before he was sick. </p><p> </p><p>‘Boys don’t cry.’ Whispered Scars voice in his head ‘Especially when those boys are leaders.’ </p><p> </p><p>“Shut up.” He mumbled, closing his eyes trying to get the voice to go away</p><p> </p><p>‘You aren’t ready. I mean look at you’se.’ </p><p> </p><p>Spot opened his eyes, pulling his hair, “Shut. Up.” </p><p> </p><p>‘You’re going to burn Brooklyn to the ground.’ </p><p> </p><p>Spot whipped around, his fist connecting with the mirror, <em> “Shut up!” </em>He stopped, his breath coming out in short little huffs. His hand was bleeding little shards of glass in his knuckles. </p><p> </p><p>“<em> Shit </em>.” </p><p>-----</p><p> “Jackie boy’s newsies is planning like they’se going on strike!” Has been the only thing Spot’s heard all day, and if someone tells him again he’s going to lose his mind. Rocking back and forth on his heels, he started to fidget with his cane. </p><p> </p><p>Someone tapped him from behind, whispering in his ear “Cowboys here.” </p><p> </p><p>He turned towards the dock, and surely there he was. A few of Spot’s newsies gave him, and the two others with him, a hard time. Causing Spot to chuckle under his breath a bit. Before returning to his usual stony expression. “Well if it ain’t Jack be nimble Jack be <em> quick </em>.” </p><p> </p><p>“So you moved up in the world, Spot.” Jack commented “Got a river view and everything.” </p><p> </p><p>Spot climbed over the ledge, and climbed down to meet Jack, who spat in his hand and held it out for a shake. Spot returned the shake, and Jack clapped him on his back. </p><p> </p><p>Spot looked over at Boots, someone who was once his friend before he became King, and his heart sunk. Boots was looking at him like he was scared, so Spot put his cane away and asked “Hey, Boots how’s it rollin’?” </p><p> </p><p>Boots hopped off of the cart, handing Spot a few marbles, “Here, I got a couple of real good shooters here.” He still looked nervous, and it made Spot’s heart hurt. </p><p> </p><p>He wanted to say something, but there were newsies all around him watching his every move. So he didn’t. Instead he took to the marbles, and loaded them into his slingshot, “So, Jackie boy,” He took his aim “I’ve been hearing things from little birds.” </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah?” </p><p> </p><p>Spot shot at a glass bottle above Jack’s company's head, “Things from Harlem, <em> Queens </em>.” He watched as the boy flinched at the sound of the bottle breaking “All over. They’re chirping in my ear. Jackie boy’s newsies is playing like they’se goin on strike.” </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, well, we are.” Jack started before the boy with him interrupted </p><p> </p><p>“But we’re not playing. We are going on strike.” </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, yeah? <em> Yeah </em>?” Spot got in the boys face “What is this Jackie boy? Some kinda walking mouth?” </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah it’s a mouth. But a mouth with a brain.” Jack walked up, “And if you got half’a one you’ll listen to what he’s gotta say.” </p><p> </p><p>So he did. Spot listened to the boy’s obvious attempt to butter him up. But he wasn’t convinced. He couldn’t know for sure that they wouldn’t run at the first sight of trouble. And that if Spot helped them, and put his reputation on the line, who knew what could happen. </p><p> </p><p>So he told them no. He wouldn’t help them, not if they didn’t show him they had the guts to win. They were rightfully upset, but Spot insisted that he would only send over help if they could prove to him that they wouldn’t book it at first sight of trouble. It was the only thing Spot could do, the only thing he could <em> afford </em> to do, and it was the only thing he was going to do. </p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p>“Hey Spot!”</p><p> </p><p>Spot looked away from the window he was staring out of, “Yeah Hotshot?” </p><p> </p><p>Hotshot smiled, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, “Cowboy and his newsies pulled through with the strike.” </p><p> </p><p>Spot’s eyes widened, “They did?” Hotshot gave him an excited nod, and Spot’s heart sank. He was impressed, and happy for them don’t get him wrong, but them pulling through meant Spot had some harder decisions on his plate now. </p><p> </p><p>It’s still early in the strike, and Spot couldn’t be sure if ‘Hattan would stick with it to end. But Spot told them he’d join if they showed him they could do it, backing out on his promise could tarnish his word. No matter what choice he chose there was a chance it wouldn’t turn out so good. </p><p> </p><p>“Well,” Hotshot cleared his throat “Are we join’ em?” </p><p> </p><p>Sighing Spot got up, pushing past Hotshot, “Gather the best fighters. Tell ‘em we’s heading to ‘hattan.” </p><p>-----</p><p>The strike itself was fairly uneventful. Brooklyn showed up, helped ‘hattan out a bit. Everyone was happy. After the strike Spot decided to stay in Hattan for a while longer. Ordering Hotshot to take the boys back to Brooklyn until further notice. </p><p> </p><p>“We’se goin’ to Jacobi’s to celebrate Spot you comin’” Jack slung his arm over Mouth’s shoulder </p><p> </p><p>Spot nodded, “Wouldn’t hurt I guess.” </p><p> </p><p>Jack nodded, walking off with Mouth, and leaving Spot alone with the ‘Hattan newsies. Most were staring at him silently, and some wouldn’t even look in his direction. The only ones actually looking at him were Race, Blink, and Dutchy. He sighed, “Spot.” and held his hand out to the nearest newsie, a kid with tan skin and curly hair. </p><p> </p><p>The kid smiled softly and returned the shake, “Mush.” </p><p>-----</p><p>The bell to Jacobi’s rang as Jack and Mouth’s, whose Spot had recently learned the name was Davey, reporter friend walked in. He was carrying an addition of the latest newspaper, walking around clapping the boy’s on their shoulders saying “This is <em> it </em>.” </p><p> </p><p>When he finally got to Spot, who wasn’t much interested, he clapped his shoulder and told him “You’re in this <em> too </em>.” Which really got Spot’s attention </p><p> </p><p>Standing up out of his seat, he tried to see over the crowd that was huddling around Jack, ‘Where’s me <em> picture </em> ? <em> Hey </em>, where’s me picture. Where’s me picture?” </p><p> </p><p>Jack just brushed him away. The other newsies started to speak up after Spot. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey, all of them words there, they all about <em> us </em>?” </p><p> </p><p>“Hey look at ya <em> Jack </em> you look like a <em> gentleman </em>!” </p><p> </p><p>Jack sighed, brushing everyone away, “Will ya get your fingers off my face.” </p><p> </p><p>Getting increasingly angerier, Spot spoke up again “<em> Where </em> does it say my name? <em> Where’s </em> my name?” </p><p> </p><p>Jack pushed him off, “Quit thinkin’ about yourself.” </p><p> </p><p>Everyone continued to clammer around Jack, asking questions about the paper. Until a kid in a pink shirt and brown suspenders, Skittery Spot thinks was his name, spoke up, “So <em> what </em> , you get your picture in the papes? <em> So </em>, what’s that get you, huh?” </p><p> </p><p>Everyone turned their attention to him, telling him to either shut up or asking him what the hell he was talking about. Race rolled his eyes and smacking the kid in the face, accidentally hitting Mush behind him, “You’ve been glum and dumb! What’s the matter with you?” He started to walk around the table “You’re in the papes, you’re <em> famous </em> . You’re famous, you get <em> anything </em> you want!” He smacked the table “And that’s what’s so great about New York!” </p><p> </p><p>Everyone agreed, and started going around naming the things they wanted. When it got to Spot he paused, thinking about what he wanted, “A <em> porcelain </em> tub with <em> boilin’ </em> water.” He caught Race’s eye knowing that Race was the only one he’d told about that. Race just nodded his head, and everyone continued on. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey! Look at me! I’m the King of New York!” Race yelled, climbing onto the table, one of the waiters in the back shaking his head, he handed the paper over to Jack who continued the chain, before Race grabbed the paper again, “Then there I be! Ain’t I pretty.” Spot gave a small nod out of habit, and Race averted his gaze, before joining back in with Jack. </p><p> </p><p>Spot made himself scarce for the rest of their time at Jacobi’s. Standing in the back with the other newsies. After everyone was done Jack rallied them all up, and declared that they should hold a strike rally for all of the other newsies. Spot agreed that Brooklyn would show, before making his way back there, and hoping that maybe, just maybe everything will turn out okay. </p><p>-----</p><p>It was overwhelming. The rally. Almost every newsie from every borough was there. And they were all watching Spot, Davey, and Jack. </p><p> </p><p>Spot was going to hurl. But he kept a smile on his face, and looked around the theater to distract himself. </p><p> </p><p>Jack started to speak, but Spot was too wrapped up in his own thoughts to listen. The newsies around him had started cheering, bringing Spot out of his trance long enough to catch the end of Jack’s rant. </p><p> </p><p>“-stop soakin’ the scabs!” Spot raised an eyebrow at Jack’s statement</p><p> </p><p>“What are we supposed to do to da bum’s, kiss <em> ‘em </em>?” Racetrack spoke up from the audience </p><p> </p><p>“Hey, <em> look </em> , any scab I see, I soak ‘em, <em> period </em>.” Spot added, getting cheers from the other newsies, and a death glare from Jack. </p><p> </p><p>Davey quickly interjected, talking about how it’s bad to soak the scabs. Spot scoffed, stepping up “Hey, <em> look </em> , they’re gonna be playing with <em> my </em> hands, <em> all right? </em> ” Davey went quiet and stepped back, allowing Spot to continue, “Because it ain’t what they say, it’s what <em> we </em> say.” He turned to face the newsies “And <em> nobody </em> ain’t gonna listen to us unless we <em> make </em> ‘em.” </p><p> </p><p>The newsies started to argue amongst each other, and Jack cut in “You ain’t got no <em> brains </em>!”  Spot scoffed and looked around at the newsies reactions, completely tuning Jack out. </p><p> </p><p>The newsies started to settle down, cheering for Jack and whatever he was saying. Blink even shouted “Tell ‘em, Jack!” The newsies agreed, and started to side with Jack. Causing Jack to ask Spot, “So what do <em> you </em> say, Spot?” </p><p> </p><p>Spot took a deep breath, looking around at all of the newsies around him. He still wasn’t completely sold on Jack’s ability to stick with the strike. But everyone’s eyes were on him, Spot Conlon, the deciding factor, and he had no choice but to trust Jack, “I say that what <em> you </em> say” He paused, taking another breath, “Is what <em> I </em> say.” </p><p> </p><p>Jack smiled, shaking on it, and the newsies around started to cheer. Jack grabbed Davey’s hand and held it up in the air along with Spot’s, and Spot looked around at the cheering newsies, and hoped to god he made the right choice. </p><p>-----</p><p>Spot hadn't heard much between all of the chaos. But what he had heard was that Snyder and his goons had crashed the rally, and dozens of newsies had been arrested, almost everyone had been injured in some way, and Jack had been caught as well. But no one had seen or heard from him since. </p><p> </p><p>Basically they were most definitely and royally fucked. </p><p> </p><p>“All rise, all rise. Court is now in session.” Spot’s head jerked up as some old guy, who Spot was assuming was the judge, walked into the room, “Judge E.A. Monahan presiding.” So he was the judge, good to know </p><p> </p><p>“Are any of you represented by a counsel?” </p><p> </p><p>Spot and the others looked at eachother. </p><p> </p><p>“-What’s a counsel?-” </p><p> </p><p>“-That’s what I said.-” </p><p> </p><p>The judge nodded, “No. Good, good. That’ll move things along considerably.” </p><p> </p><p>Spot scoffed, “Hey, your honor, I <em> object </em>.” He wasn’t just gonna let some old guy with a tiny hammer boss him around </p><p> </p><p>The judge leaned forward, “On what grounds?” </p><p> </p><p>Spot raised an eyebrow, <em> grounds?!? </em> Everyone turned to him, expecting him to say something. So he smiled, deciding to improvise, “On the grounds of <em> Brooklyn </em>, your honor.” The newsies around him laughed, Racetrack completely losing it, and he turned around to smile at them while the judge called for order. </p><p> </p><p>“I fine each of you<em> 5 dollars.” </em> He paused, “ <em> Or </em> two weeks confinement in the house of refuge.” </p><p> </p><p>Spot’s smile fell, his heart rate started to spike, and he could feel bile at the back of his throat. Mush tapped him on the shoulder asking if he just said 5 bucks. Spot told him yes and Mush scoffed, turning to Blink who was just as mad.</p><p> </p><p>Racetrack started to speak, but Spot couldn’t hear above the ringing in his ears. He looked to Race, the floor swaying around him. They started to walk away, Denton said something and all of the newsies around him cheered. Jack had walked in, and the newsies started joking with him.  But Spot couldn’t care less. He just walked out of the courtroom, and when he was finally alone his legs gave out and he fell. </p><p> </p><p>But before he could hit the ground someone caught him, and helped him back up. Looking up he saw Race giving him a worried expression. </p><p> </p><p>“Jesus fuckin’ <em> christ </em> Spot.” Race put his arm around him, trying his best to support the taller boy “What the hell happened to you?” </p><p> </p><p>Spot swatted him away “It’s nothin’ don’t worry ‘bout it.” He released himself from Race’s hold, “I-...uh I just gotta get back to Brooklyn ya know.” </p><p> </p><p>“You just <em> collapsed </em> Spot! Now’s not the time to walk to Brooklyn.” Race yelled, trying to be as loud as he could without alerting the newsies </p><p> </p><p>Spot scoffed, “I said don’t worry about it Racetrack! Jus’ leave me be I’m goin’ to Brooklyn.” Race flinched, and Spot realized he raised his hand like he was gonna hit Race. He quickly put it down “<em> Race- </em>” </p><p> </p><p>“No. Spot this is on you. You push everyone away and one day tha’s gonna come back and bite you’se in the ass.” Race shook his head, taking a step back “You should get back to Brooklyn, Conlon.” </p><p> </p><p>Spot sighed, grabbing Race’s arm and pulling him back. “<em> Wait </em> . Please, I wan-” Spot took a deep breath “I <em> need </em> to talk to you. Just not here <em> please </em>.” </p><p> </p><p>Race gave him a soft smile, “Yeah sure, just tell me what you need.” </p><p>-----</p><p>Spot swallowed the lump in his throat, and fixed his posture, “I’m-...uh I’m not good at this whole <em> feelings </em> thing.” </p><p> </p><p>“I hadn’t noticed.” Race laughed, before taking a look at Spot’s face and shutting up, “<em> Just </em>...just tell me what’s on your mind.” </p><p> </p><p>Spot nodded, and took a deep breath “I just don't <em> know </em> Racer it’s like I feel like I just can’t <em> live </em> . Between Brooklyn, and the <em> goddamn </em> strike, and now Cowboy gettin’ <em> arrested </em> .” His eyes started to water as he continued “I’m either gaining responsibilities I didn’t want or losin’ people I do and I-” His voice cracked, and the tears started to fall “I have the weight of the <em> world </em> on my shoulders and I feel like it’s <em> crushing </em> me and I-....and I can’t fucking breathe <em> Racer </em>.” </p><p> </p><p>Race looked at him with wide eyes, cigar fiddling through his fingers. “<em> Spotty </em> ,” He whispered, before wrapping the taller boy in a hug, and Spot lost his composure. He let out a sob wrapping his arms around Racetrack, and leaning into the warm embrace. Race rubbed his back as Spot sobbed, “I gotcha Spotty, I ain’t goin’ nowhere. I <em> promise </em>.” </p><p> </p><p>They both just stood there holding each other, the strike forgotten for a moment, just the two of them, alone, seeking comfort in each other’s presence. Spot had stopped crying, and was just silently clinging on to Race as if he would disappear if he let go. </p><p> </p><p>Race finally pulled away, and sat down with his back against the brick ledge. He mentioned for Spot to sit with him. Sitting down Spot rested his head on Race’s shoulder, no one dared speak as they didn’t want to ruin the moment. </p><p> </p><p>The sun had gone down by the time Spot spoke again, “<em> Racer </em>?” </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah Spotty?” Race turned to face Spot, smoke curling around his lips from his cigar</p><p> </p><p>Spot rested his head on Race’s shoulder, before whispering “Thank you.” </p><p> </p><p>Race didn’t respond, he just gave Spot a small smile and a nod of the head, before going back to his cigar. And that was all Spot needed. </p><p>-----</p><p>The next morning Blink came up to the roof to wake Spot and Race up. Apparently Davey and Jack didn’t come home last night and it had all the newsies worried. </p><p> </p><p>“They’se probably <em> fine </em> Blink,” Race sat up stretching his back, “Remind me not sleep up here again.” Spot nodded, feeling his own sore back. </p><p> </p><p>Walking downstairs to the lodging house they got some stares, and few questions as to where Cowboy and Davey were. Race and Spot went around trying to calm everyone down, claiming they were fine just not here yet. By the time they had gotten around both of them weren’t sure they believed it themselves anymore. </p><p>-----</p><p>“Stop The World!” and “No more papes!” was the only thing you could hear. The policemen were trying to shout over the noise, ultimately failing, and having to resort to using their horse to push the newsboys out of the way. Some guy in a carriage swung at Race causing both Race and Spot to curse at him as he went by. </p><p> </p><p>Fights started to break out between scabs and newsies, and Davey ran through trying to break them up. </p><p> </p><p>“Cheese it!” Race screamed, and Davey whipped over to him </p><p> </p><p>Grabbing Race’s shoulder, Davey pleaded with him. “Race, please, help me. I need some help!” </p><p> </p><p>Spot watched as Race brushed him off, “Alright! I ain’t <em> deaf </em>!” </p><p> </p><p>Spot rolled his eyes, and started to brush past the crowd of chaos, “Hey, hey, <em> hey </em> . Break it up. Break it up.” When he got to the front of the crowd he paused, eyes going wide at the sight he saw. He grabbed Race, “ <em> Hey </em> . Hey, <em> Race </em>. Race, come here.” </p><p> </p><p>“What?” Race asked coming to stand next to him</p><p> </p><p>“Tell me I’m just seein’ things. <em> Just </em> tell me I’m seein <em> things </em>.” He said, as Jack walked out to the front of the scab line </p><p> </p><p>“No, you ain’t seein things. That’s <em> Jack </em> .” Race said, eyes going wide. “What’s he <em> doin </em>?” </p><p> </p><p>“But he’s dressed like a <em> scabber </em> !” Spot’s heart stopped in his chest, and he stared in disbelief at Jack. Mush pushed by him trying to get to Jack, only to be held back by policemen. Then Blink did the same, and then Boots. The slimy guy that walked Jack up started to speak about how Jack was a special new employee to Mr. Pulitzer, and Spot lost it. “ <em> What </em>? He sold us out!” </p><p> </p><p>Race pushed past him, “Look at him in his little suit. You <em> bum </em> ! I’ll soak ya!” Spot pulled him back as he continued to yell “Ya <em> fink </em>!” </p><p> </p><p>Spot turned to look at Race, “<em> Enough </em> !” Race stopped, and Spot turned back around to face Jack “Let me get my hands <em> dirty </em> .” He leaped over the policemen, screaming “Come here, you dirty, rotten <em> scabber </em>!” He started screaming curses at him, and the newsies all clamored around him and pulled him to the back of the crowd. </p><p> </p><p> Spot still protested against them, “I’ll <em> murder </em> you!” He managed to escape their grip, trying to run back up but inevitably getting caught by Skittey, “ <em> Traitor </em>!” </p><p> </p><p> “Spot!” Skittery yelled, and Race started to make his way to the back of the crowd </p><p> </p><p>Spot stopped, out of breath, “That <em> little </em> , rotten <em> fu- </em>” Race clamped a hand over his mouth, only removing it when Spot stilled, he motioned for Skittery to beat it </p><p> </p><p>“<em> Spot- </em>” </p><p> </p><p>“I’m <em> screwed </em> .” Spot stated, heart running at a mile a minute “I am completely and utterly <em> screwed </em> .” He started to bite his nails, and pace “I put my <em> trust </em> in Kelly. <em> Hell </em> , I put my trust in Kelly in front of almost every newsie in New York. And <em> this </em> is what he does?” Spot looked at Race, who just stood there looking at Spot with a dark expression “He stabs me, no not me, us, <em> everyone </em> in the back like that!” Spot paused, before whispering “He just got me <em> killed </em>.” </p><p> </p><p>More screaming came from the front of the crowd, but Race ignored it, “<em> No </em> . No he didn’t because we can still win this.” He grabbed Spot’’s face, “This ain’t the place to talk about this, <em> okay </em>.” </p><p> </p><p>Spot nodded, still pissed, and still scared, they both made their way back up to front of the crowd. Only to see Davey walking away from Jack, but he caught Spot’s eye and turned around. Swinging on Jack, but being dragged away by the bulls, screaming as they carried him away. </p><p> </p><p>They all tried to go after Jack, as the bulls escorted him through, yelling at him. Les popped up and claimed Jack was just fooling them, it made Spot’s heart hurt at how hard the kid wanted to believe Jack was still with them. </p><p>-----</p><p>Spot paced around the lodging house roof, “Fuckin’ <em> Kelly </em> ,” He threw his hands in the air “I’m <em> screwed </em>!” </p><p> </p><p>“No, you ain’t <em> screwed </em> Spot-” </p><p> </p><p>“Yes I am!” Spot ran his fingers through his hair, “I’m gonna go back to Brooklyn and tell ‘em Kelly scabbed, and they missed a week’s pay for <em> nothin’ </em> and boom I’m dead before <em> sunrise </em>!” </p><p> </p><p>“It ain’t that <em> bad </em>.” </p><p> </p><p>“Yes, <em> yes </em> it is.” Spot said “It is a big deal, because if word gets around that someone I put my trust in scabbed, it’s on <em> me </em> . It’s on <em> me </em> because <em> I </em> put my trust in him. I can’t go around putting my trust in people only for them to pull this <em> shit </em>.” He took a deep breath “It might not be bad to you Racer, but to me it could mean the end of the world.” </p><p> </p><p>Race sighed, “You’se don’t gotta go back, Spotty. You could just stay here til it's all sorted out.” He placed his hands on Spot’s shoulders, stilling him, “Brooklyn’ll be <em> fine </em> til then.” </p><p> </p><p>Spot shook his head, “No, I gotta go back, if I don’t I’ll just be diggin’ myself a bigger hole. Might as well get it over with.” </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, <em> yeah </em> I get it.” He paused, looking up at Spot “Just-...just stay safe will ya.” </p><p> </p><p>Spot nodded, climbing onto the fire escape “I’ll try Rac-” He was cut off with Race swiftly connecting their lips for a brief second, before pulling away with a blush </p><p> </p><p>“Stay safe out there Conlon,” He paused “<em> Please </em>.” </p><p>-----</p><p>“What do you mean Kelly <em> scabbed </em>?” </p><p> </p><p>Spot sighed, ready to stab himself with his cane, “I mean what I said Hotshot! Kelly is a dirty rotten scabber okay! The strike is still goin’ through only with Davey leadin’ ‘em instead.” </p><p> </p><p>The Brooklyn newsies looked at him for a second, before someone in the back spoke up, “So what’s Brooklyn doin’?” </p><p> </p><p>Spot sighed, “The same thing we was doin’ before-” Shouts of protest were made about Spot’s statement, and Spot grew increasingly frustrated, “Shut up!” Everyone grew quiet “<em> Thank you </em>, we’se doin’ the same as before because the agreement hasn’t changed. ‘Hattan has showed us they can see through with the strike,” People started to raise their eyebrows at the statement, “Forget Kelly for a second will ya, he’s not all a ‘Hattan!” </p><p> </p><p>“You’se only wanna see it through because you’se got friends in ‘Hattan.” Someone from the back yelled, and the newsies murmured in agreement </p><p> </p><p>“Okay! So <em> what </em>?” Spot growled out, frustrated with the lack of respect coming from the newsies “So what I’se got friends in ‘Hattan. Hotshot over there has friends in Queens. You, Myron, you’se got a girl in the Bronx right?” The boy blushed, but nodded his head </p><p> </p><p>“<em> See </em> ?” Spot asked, “We’se all got friends, <em> and </em> partners in other boroughs and I’m <em> tired </em> of us thinkin’ we don’t, or we <em> can’t </em> . Because we <em> can </em> , and there’s nothin’ <em> wrong </em> with that!” Spot sighed, “Now you can kill me or kick me out, <em> whatever </em>I don’t care anymore. All I care about is the fact that we’se stickin’ with the strike.” </p><p> </p><p>“Why don’t we vote on it?” Hotshot smirked, and Spot wanted to shove his cane so far up the boy’s ass, but he nodded</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Okay </em> we’ll vote, all for stickin’ with the strike.” He raised his hand, and was shocked when everyone, except for a few loners, did too</p><p> </p><p>Hotshot smiled, also raising his hand, “<em> So </em>, tell us what to do boss.” </p><p> </p><p>“I’ll tell ya what you can do.” A voice called from the back of the crowd, and everyone moved so they could see who it was “You can let me talk to your fearless leader here so I can give him a run down on what’s happenin’” </p><p> </p><p>“Jesus <em> Christ </em>,” Spot laughed “You sure know how to make an entrance don’t ya Racer.” </p><p>-----</p><p>Race followed Spot into the back room, and Spot made sure to lock the door behind them. “So to what do I’se owe the pleasure?” </p><p> </p><p>“Cowboys back.” Race blurted out, and Spot froze </p><p> </p><p>“<em> What </em>?” </p><p> </p><p>“Cowboy’s back and him and Davey’s got this plan, and Davey’s sister, uh <em> Sarah </em>, is there too-” </p><p> </p><p>“You trust him?” Spot asked, “Because I <em> don’t </em> , but if you and the other’s do. I <em> might </em> consider it.” </p><p> </p><p>“We <em> don’t </em>,” Race sighed “But we’se got Denton, and the Jacob's are with us so it doesn’t matter because Jackie boy ain’t got nowhere to run to, now that he’s broken his deal with old man Pulitzer.” </p><p> </p><p>“Okay.” Spot nodded “We was already gonna send some boys over to help, so just tell me what you need.” </p><p> </p><p>Race smiled, “Yeah, <em> yeah </em>. Okay so here’s the plan.” </p><p>-----</p><p>Spot walked through the streets of Manhattan, hundreds of kids following behind him. And he was impressed. They managed to pull it off, all of the children's workers crowded and striking outside of Pulitzer’s building. </p><p> </p><p>That ain’t a sight you see everyday. </p><p> </p><p>Pulling his cane out and holding it in the air, he shouted, “Brooklyn!” And everyone behind him followed suit. </p><p> </p><p>Thousands of kids in newsies square, cheering, and screaming “<em> Strike </em>.” was a sight for sore eyes, that Spot wasn’t going to ever forget. Spot caught up with Race and the others, and he smiled, watching Pulitzer’s goons watch the chaos that was before them. They had no choice but to let them in now. </p><p> </p><p>And that’s what they did. </p><p> </p><p>Spot watched as Davey and Jack were pulled into the building, “Ya think we can win?” He whispered in Race’s ear, hoping he could hear him above all of the noise </p><p> </p><p>Race smiled, “Yeah, yeah I think we can Spotty.” </p><p> </p><p>Blink pointed above Spot’s head, “Ay look up there!”</p><p> </p><p>Jack had opened Pulitzer’s window at the top of his tower. Spot could just barely see, but it looked like Pulitzer was yelling at them. Spot laughed, and everyone got a little louder until the window shut again. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey I’m goin’ to the gates to see what’s goin’ on.” Spot told Race before pushing his way past the crowd and towards the gates. After a while the gates opened, and Davey and Jack walked out “Hey, fellas, they’re over here. They’re over here.” Spot called out, to get everyone’s attention</p><p> </p><p>Everyone swarmed them, trying to get an answer. Jack just brushed everyone off, and went straight for Les. Whispering something in his ear, before picking him up and placing him on his shoulders, yelling “We beat <em> ‘em </em>!”  </p><p> </p><p>Everyone cheered, Spot brought Race into a hug as Race cheered. Skittery watched them in amusement, and tapped Spot on the shoulder “Lookie here.” The Delancy brother’s walked by them, heads down avoiding eye contact. Spot laughed, before hearing Les say, “Jack, <em> Jack </em> it’s the Bulls put me down. </p><p> </p><p>And suddenly everyone was trying to get Jack away, but before they could, Denton stopped them and assured them they wouldn’t have to worry about Snyder anymore. The carriage opened letting dozens of kids out, including Crutchie. Who gave a tearful greeting to all of his friends. </p><p> </p><p>“Jack you ought’a seen it!” Crutchie tapped Jack, “He come storing into the Refuge waving his walking stick like a sword, and he’s leading this <em> army </em> of lawyers and cops-” </p><p> </p><p>Jack shook his head, “<em> Who </em> comes walking in?”</p><p> </p><p>“You know, your friend,” Crutchie pointed at the carriage that no one had noticed, “<em> Him </em>. Teddy Roosevelt.” </p><p> </p><p>Jack’s face paled, and Denton continued, “The governor’s very grateful you brought this problem to his attention-”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Roosevelt </em>?” Race whispered in awe </p><p> </p><p>“-I said you might need a lift somewhere. He’s glad to oblige. Anywhere you want. And <em> this </em> time you ride <em> inside </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“So could he drop me off at the train yards?” Jack asked, and all of the Manhattan newsies looked around puzzled. Spot took that as his cue to make himself scarce, and to look for his newsies. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey.” Denton said as Spot walked up to him </p><p> </p><p>Spot nodded, “How ya doin’” </p><p> </p><p>“So you and Race huh?” He asked </p><p> </p><p>Spot sputtered, and blushed “<em> What </em>? No! I-” </p><p> </p><p>“Hey, I’m not gonna judge Spot,” The circulation bell rang, “That’s your cue.” He laughed, slinging an arm around Spot, who just shook his head and walked with him. The crowd started to cheer again, and Spot turned around. </p><p> </p><p>Cowboy stood up in Roosevelt’s carriage, he gave Roosevelt a hand shake before hopping out. Davey dropped his papes as Jack approached, “So how’s the headline today?” </p><p> </p><p>“Headlines don’t sell papes.” Davey laughed, putting on a newsies cap, “<em> Newsies </em> sell papes.” </p><p> </p><p>Everyone cheered, and Davey stepped down to give Jack a proper shake. Spot laughed watching it, before catching Sarah’s eye. He pulled some newsies aside to make room for her as she approached, grabbing Jack and bringing her lips to meet his. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey Denton?” Spot asked </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah kid?” Denton looked away from where the Jacob’s had brought Jack into a group hug</p><p> </p><p>“How much you wanna bet I can get a ride from Roosevelt?” </p><p> </p><p>Denton laughed at him, eyes wide, “Ya know what? Knock yourself out kid.” </p><p> </p><p>Spot gave him a smile, before running over to Roosevelt’s carriage, “Hey <em> Govna’ </em>?” </p><p> </p><p>Roosevelt turned to see who called for him, “<em> Yes </em> young man?” </p><p> </p><p>“Can I catch a ride?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This took two weeks to write and I hope you enjoyed it</p></blockquote></div></div>
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